Beyond An Unexpected Malfoy
by RiverWriter
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots set in the same universe as my story 'An Unexpected Malfoy'
1. The Meet Cute That Wasn't

The Meet Cute That Wasn't: September 1, 1991

Hermione peered inside the next compartment she was set to search, raising her chin and squaring her shoulders bravely, like the Gryffindor she was determined to become. She carefully opened the door. The five occupants all appeared to be about her age; at most they were one or two years older. It was impossible to know for sure. What she did know was that they all came from magical families because unlike her they weren't wearing non-descript Hogwarts uniforms but stylish, everyday (at least she assumed) wizarding robes.

It was hardest to face kids her age; the older ones viewed her with either vaguely veiled amusement or annoyance, answered her question about Trevor, and let her move along. Those closer to her age were less predictable and took her request with less good humor. Being sneered at and turned away, by older kids was one thing but it was hard to swallow from those her were to be her peers. She so want to make friends at Hogwarts and certainly didn't want to mess it up before she even reached school.

She regarded the compartment's occupants: two of the boys drew her attention first /by virtue of their sheer size. They were simply enormous. They both had heads of close cropped dark hair but there was no intelligence behind their eyes so, despite their size she wasn't particularly frightened.

Then there was a girl with a blunt, bob-style haircut and upturned nose who practically radiated animosity. However, she was completely un-intimidating compared to her blonde friend who was probably the prettiest girl Hermione had ever seen. She automatically curled her upper lip around her overly large front teeth self-consciously. She knew these types of girls, they knew how to dress and do their hair and even apply cosmetics. She didn't have a prayer of fitting in with them. In fact, experience told her it was better to stay off their radar completely, they were destined to wield power and could use it against her.

But it was the last boy who almost brought her up short. He was obviously the leader of the group. She didn't know how she knew that, but she was certain. He was unusual looking; pale with sharp aristocratic features and hair so blond it was almost white. There was something about him that drew her to him. Something that made her hope that, more than anyone else on this train, he would like her; however unlikely that might be considering her observations about his companions.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, remembering her promise to the pitiful but kind boy whom she'd promised to help find his pet, and began to speak, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

And what happened in the next couple of minutes had her losing her temper like she never had before, and regretting it for months afterward.

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She had ridiculous hair. He hadn't even known hair could be like that. And a very bossy voice and attitude to match. She just assumed she could walk into their compartment and demand things of them.

Crabbe and Goyle seemed largely unperturbed. Of course they were, they were busy inhaling the treats they'd gotten off the trolley, not that they generally cared about much anyway. Pansy began to stand up but he waved her off, he wasn't going to allow her to speak for all of them, she would read far too much into that.

He rose from his seat, first impressions were important, "My apologies, Miss Granger, but we haven't seen a toad."

She smiled tightly, "well thanks anyways."

She turned to exit the compartment and he had the sudden urge to stop her, "may I present Greg Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson," he indicated to each of them in turn.

"Granger?" Pansy sniffed disdainfully, no doubt feeling the sting of being left for last in his introductions, "that doesn't sound like any name I know."

"Oh, well, my parents are muggles," she answered with a shrug, "I don't know if there are any magical families called 'Granger.'"

The silence in the compartment was deafening.

"Muggles?" Draco felt his lips curl into a sneer of distaste, his heart falling in disappointment. Despite the attitude and the hair he had decided in the last few seconds that he wanted to get to know her, but that would never happen now.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, shoulders squared in defiance.

Draco marveled at her nerve in even approaching them, didn't she know how filthy she was?

He huffed out an incredulous little laugh, "Only in that it makes you the lowest of the low, I wouldn't count on finding a place here, _Granger_ , you don't belong. Go back to your kind," he hissed, gesturing vaguely back towards London.

She stood there just staring at him, and for a moment he worried that he was going to have to deal with a crying girl. Mudblood or not, it wasn't a pleasant prospect. But then her eyes flashed, her nostrils flared and he could have sworn he felt her magic build, it felt like an approaching storm.

"You said that your name was 'Malfoy?" she said suddenly, in a disconcertingly calm voice. She took several measured steps in his direction, like a predator stalking her prey, and Draco realized that she could be equally dangerous, but he refused to flinch.

She stopped right in front of him, they were unfortunately about the same height. She smirked wickedly and leaned right into his space, "derived from the French meaning 'bad faith?'" she sniped, face painted with delicious malice, "well that certainly doesn't bode well for your future. I think I'll take my muggle background over that any day, thank you very much."

He blinked at her, shocked by her sheer nerve, and tried to think of an appropriate retort, his pride greater than his sense of self preservation in the moment. However, before he could even blink she'd spun on her heel and stormed away; the doors to the compartment banging together in the wake of her departure.

He didn't understand why hurting her hurt him so badly. And he understood even less why he actually felt humbled by her words. He did his best to put her out of his mind, it was a an exercise doomed to failure.


	2. Prepare For The Worst

Prepare for the Worst: June 3, 1980

Narcissa rocked back and forth, humming softly to herself and her unborn son. Resting her arms on her swollen belly, she was grateful for her baby's presence. Without him she would have felt inconsolably alone.

She loved her Draco with every part of her being and every fibre of her soul even though she technically hadn't met him yet. He was a miracle. And sitting in his nursery brought her peace that she was unable to find in her own bedroom where her husband's absence was glaring. She looked up at the ceiling, charmed to look like the night sky with Draco's constellation positioned over his cot.

She was due to give birth any day, any hour even, but Lucius was off serving their supposed Lord. She knew he would be here with her if he had a choice, but that didn't make his absence any easier to bear. Lucius was called upon more and more often as the Dark Lord gained power and she sunk further into despair with each summons.

Because the man cared nothing for her family and their current situation, except for maybe how her precious babe could be used to manipulate their family and how her innocent child could serve him in the future. And there was nothing she could do about any of it. She had never felt so lonely. The little life inside of her was enough to keep her going but he was not a companion.

Even after all these years she still missed Andromeda.

Occasionally, she got desperate enough to visit her in-laws' wing. Anneliese wasn't the warmest mother-in-law, but she usually made an effort, especially since it it had become clear that this pregnancy was actually going to result in a grandchild. But Narcissa knew to avoid Abraxas at all costs, and she could never guarantee that her father-in-law would be called to their Lord's side along with his son. He seemed to be growing more dependent on the younger generation and reminding Abraxas that he was being set aside in favour of Lucius was not wise.

She couldn't call at the Nott estate in the middle of the night either. Marguerite might have been her best friend, but her husband was still a staunch supporter of the Dark Lord. It would look suspicious for Narcissa to go fleeing to her friend just because her husband had been summoned. Not to mention, Theo was just a few months old and his mother did not need a sad pregnant woman underfoot as she tried to tend to him.

But mostly it was just that nobody could replace Lucius. She longed for the early days of their marriage when their nights had largely been their own. And when they hadn't been it was usually because they'd been attending a social event. But they'd been together.

She knew she had little room to complain, she was lucky; she had married for love, to a man who happily shared a bed with her every night, even these days when he had little hope of being granted any intimacies. He was tender and thoughtful. Merlin, he'd let her choose their son- his heir's- name. But she missed him and she wanted him with her during this special time as they awaited the birth of their child.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened quietly and Lucius appeared. She was thankful to see that he was dressed for bed, no Death Eater robes in sight. It didn't happen often, but he had returned covered in blood on occasion, sometimes his, sometimes that of others. She couldn't decide which was worse. She hated the idea of him hurting people, but selfishly she also couldn't lose him, and seeing him broken and bleeding just emphasized the fact that she easily could.

He walked into the room. The look on his face all too knowing. He extended his hands and helped her out of the chair. She stumbled slightly, there seemed to be no getting used to the way her center of gravity had changed due to her belly. He steadied her, chuckling under his breath, but his expression was soft. He would never admit it, but he loved seeing her swollen with their child and could never get enough of how it affected her usual easy grace. He liked how much she needed him. She wondered if he considered how much that scared her- given their current predicament- but wasn't brave enough to ask.

"Bed, Wife?"

She simply smiled at him, she did so love it when he called her by that moniker and he knew it. People thought that she had chased Lucius in a bid to eventually become Lady Malfoy, their marriage had been something of a coup for her, considering that she was only a third daughter of a cadet branch of the Ancient and Nobel House of Black and her older sisters had both managed to disgrace themselves. But, while she was proud of her position, she'd really only ever wanted to be Lucius' wife, and now Draco's mother. And she just wanted her loves to be safe and for their little family to be able live in peace. If she could guarantee that she'd leave the title and prestige behind in a moment. Lucius seemed to sense her melancholy. Where he normally would have offered his arm, instead he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed the other hand on her belly and then guided them carefully back to their bedroom. She leaned into him, despite not really needing the support.

They entered their bedroom and made their way over to their sumptuous bed; a place where she had once only experienced great joy and love now, all too often, felt cold to her. He helped her remove her dressing gown and then situate herself on the mattress.

"Will you be able to sleep?" he asked as he watched her try to make herself comfortable with a small frown on his face.

She smiled at him softly, part of her wanted to ease his worry, but she knew she couldn't lie to him. "Not quite yet," she admitted.

He removed his own dressing gown and then with a teasing quirk of his eyebrow also his pajama top. He crawled onto the bed, propped himself up on the headboard, and carefully positioned her between his legs, resting against his chest. He began to massage her neck, her shoulders, her upper arms. She luxuriated in the feel of his hands on her body, but when his hands descended to her abdomen she intervened.

"I know how you like to feel him move, my darling, but please don't wake him up, I haven't been getting much sleep as it is."

Lucius chuckled. "I'm sorry, I didn't think. And I wouldn't dream of allowing him to disturb us."

"Lucius," she said after allowing herself all of the comfort she could in her husband's arms, "what will I do," she squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for what she really needed to say, "what will we do if you don't come home one night? It was one thing when it was just me. But I don't know that I can protect Draco."

Narcissa liked to think that she was a clever, competent, and powerful witch. But she also knew that within their society her ability to protect both herself and their son without her husband was limited. The moment he left her womb Draco was vulnerable. Their fortune was tied to House Malfoy, she had nothing of her own. Her father, her husband, and her father-in-law's political rivals were all threats, along with any number of Death Eaters, the Dark Lord, and Abraxas Malfoy himself, whom she could easily imagine taking her son from her in the name of educating him properly as the Malfoy heir. At best she could be expected to be relegated to the role of nursemaid. And Abraxas had not shielded his own son from the Dark Lord, it was far too much to expect him to protect her's.

He sighed. "I'm sorry you have been worrying. I've been contemplating this. Once you passed your thirtieth week I knew I had to make arrangements for the two of you."

She understood what he meant; the healers had assured them after that milestone they could almost guarantee that the baby would survive.

"Go on," she urged quietly, pressing herself back against his chest, and wishing she could just sink into him

He snagged his wand from the bedside table, cast a few silent spells and she felt the wards go up around her. He leaned down and began whispering into her ear.

"I have been funneling funds into an account in your name, and only your name. You can access it as Narcissa Malfoy, but you can also access it as Narcissa Black; and if your uncle is desperate enough to disinherit you for some reason, your wand signature will be enough to get you into the vault. I suggest you go to your sister. I know that Andromeda is angry with both of us, but she will house you for Draco's sake. She can also help you travel in the muggle world, which should be the safest avenue, Father won't be able to track you that way, and the Dark Lord won't be bothered enough to try. There is a deed in the vault for a property in America. It is not what you are accustomed to, but I don't think that you will find it uninhabitable and because you cannot bring an elf, it's small size will be more manageable."

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

"I didn't want to add to your worry in your state. I was planning to tell you after you'd given birth."

She couldn't be angry. In her case the adage about pregnancy being a 'delicate state' had been completely accurate, more than a handful of them had ended in failure, and even this one hadn't been a walk in the park. Her healer had advised her to avoid stress, she'd almost laughed at the woman, but she couldn't explain why that was an impossibility.

She just nodded so that Lucius would know that she understood.

"Promise me that you will raise him well," he continued, voice rough with emotion, "and that you will tell him about me. Make him proud of our heritage, but don't bring him back until it is safe. That is the most important thing."

She kept nodding, she didn't trust herself to speak.

"Cissa," his voice was hypnotic, even as she wanted to tell him to stop talking, she knew she shouldn't, that he needed to say this. "I will not demand that you move on, because in your place I could never promise you such a thing. But find your own happiness, if it's in our son, so be it. But enjoy your life, my love."

She called on an entire lifetime worth of training to suppress her emotions so that she could say what it was that she needed to say.

"Okay. But I want a promise in return," she said, gripping his forearms tightly.

"Name it."

"I can only accept losing you if I know that you did everything you could to come back to us," she shifted in his arms so that she could face him, "whatever you have to do."

He held her gaze for a long moment. "Do you know what you are saying? Could you live with such a man?"

She thought about the sight of him covered in blood and felt like the most wretched soul, but didn't hesitate when she said: "Whatever you have to do, Lucius."

 **Author's note: Thank you to Weestarmeggie for beta reading! And thanks to you all for checking out these one-shots!**


	3. Morning Has Broken

Morning Has Broken: October 31- November 1, 1981

Draco had been restless all evening and into the night. And because Lucius had been out she'd just put him to bed with her. It was Samhain. She wondered if her son could sense the change in the air. If he, too, felt that something was approaching that made him uneasy.

Long after he'd finally settled in her arms she remained awake, keeping him safe as best she could. She could never get enough of him: his sweet baby scent, the little noises he made in his sleep, his beautiful hair with just a hint of curl at the end, and the solid weight of his body curled against hers. She was amazed everyday that she and Lucius had created him. He'd been so longed for and some days it was still hard to believe that he was hers.

She'd drifted off sometime during the early hours of the morning, unable to stay awake much longer even as she longed to wait to see Lucius return home. She could have gotten up, had a cup of tea, paced a bit. But she'd promised herself that she would be there for her son, she wouldn't leave him to the care of an elf, or worse- in her opinion- a governess. She refused to be replaced in his affections. So she needed her rest.

Because of the late night and- if she was being honest sigh herself- because she was emotionally exhausted, she slept until the sun was high in the sky. But even the bright, late morning light didn't rouse her. She only returned to consciousness when she felt a small hand patting her face. She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of her son watching her intently, apparently happy to lay with her and stroke her skin. She automatically pulled him closer.

"Good morning little dragon, did you sleep well?" She nuzzled the top of his head, "thank you for keeping me company."

"Mama," he smiled contentedly, continuing to pet her face.

She held him to her as she stretched languidly, but a sense of unease was beginning to build in her chest. They would need to get up. She could tell by the light in the room that it was many hours after she would normally depart her bed. The elves knew not to bother them if Draco was in their chamber, and she appreciated it, but Draco was off of his routine and it would only be worse if she allowed it to continue. As much as she would have liked to cuddle him for the rest of the day if she did he would be up all night.

But her temporary laziness was not the source of her anxiety, it was Lucius. He had been out all night on a summons from The Dark Lord on occasion in the past, but he'd almost always been able to warn her beforehand and he hadn't last night. Then there was that something in the air, a sense that major change was upon them. She tried to blame it on the date but she was too magically attuned to believe that. Something fundamental had been altered over the course of the night. She closed her eyes and reached for her marriage bond. It was still there. He was alive, at least.

"Oh, Draco, where is your Papa? I had so hoped he'd be back by the time we awoke."

"He is here," intoned a voice solemnly.

Narcissa jumped and automatically clutched Draco to her chest, but their position made it inconvenient to reach for her wand which was on her bedside table behind her. And it only took a split second for her to recognize the voice.

"Papa," Draco said with equal solemnity, patting her cheek again.

She almost wanted to laugh. He was already so like his father. He must have known he was there this whole time. It explained why he was so docile even though they'd been abed nearly twelve hours. He was always calmer when they were both present.

She turned over onto her back, and tilted her head. Lucius was lounging in an armchair next to the fire wearing only a pair of silk burgundy pajama bottoms. His skin and hair luminescent. And he was watching them very intently.

She sighed, he was so beautiful.

Then she did a double take. When was the last time she'd seen him looking so relaxed? She couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen him wear anything that wasn't black; he'd always favored darker shades but lately his wardrobe had become completely monochromatic.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps an hour."

"Why didn't you wake me? Or come to bed?"

"The two of you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you, I preferred to just observe," he said simply.

"Oh," she said, for lack of anything better, there was something strange about his voice.

"My whole world is in this room," he said suddenly, "and I got to wondering if you would do it again, if you had to do it over."

"Do what?"

"Marry me."

Narcissa gasped and again instinctively clutched Draco to her, as if the very idea her husband had just put out into the universe might cause him to disappear. "Of course I would, a hundred times, a thousand! Why would you ask me that?" she cried.

He got up and began stalking his way over to the bed. He sank down onto his knees next to it, positioning himself so that they were face to face, inches apart.

"I was trying to remember the last time we made love," he said with a sigh. "It has been months. The last time I can remember is the first time we were intimate after Draco was born, which would mean it's actually been more than a year." He kept eye contact as they spoke, his normally bright silver irises were dark and troubled.

She opened her mouth to protest and closed it again, and then looked away uncomfortably. For he was right. The still had sex frequently. He had these manic urges to get lost in her, to try to forget the world for awhile, and she was his wife and happy to oblige him. As their relationship had been an intimate one for nearly a decade, he knew how to touch and please her. She was physically sated, but for at least the last year it had felt rather soulless. Between that and his frequent physical absences from their bed and home, and the emotional distance he'd placed between them, she realized she was very close to a breaking point.

"Ah, I see that you understand. Thus my question. Answer me truthfully Narcissa, would you marry that man again, knowing how he would neglect you in the future? Knowing he was capable leaving his family behind night after night to serve a monster? Knowing how much blood he would one day have on his hands? Would you want to bring an child into the world with such a man, a child he would also neglect?"

"Draco loves you," she defended.

"I have been absent much of his life, but I am no fool. He is already almost a year and a half old and he has only recently begun to understand what 'papa' means and identifying me as such. And I know you have been coaching him. Now answer my question."

She didn't even need to think. "My answer is still yes, Lucius. I wouldn't take away our time together or the way I feel about you for anything. Why are you asking me this?"

His face softened. "Just one more question, Darling, please bear with me." He seemed to have been avoiding touching her but at this request he reached out and stroked a hand through her hair.

"Alright," she swallowed thickly.

"Would you like a divorce now? I will ensure that you are taken care of and I will take responsibility so that your reputation will not suffer unduly. And I will find a way to keep Father from taking Draco from you. If you don't feel that you can continue to be married to me given how things have been recently, just say the word."

"Lucius, why are you saying these things?" she wailed, choking on a sob, "you're right things have been difficult, but they are not beyond repair! I love you! Are you trying to tell me that you regret this? Are you leaving me?"

He surged forward until their foreheads were pressed together. "No, of course not, never."

"Then why?" she nearly cringed at the sound of her own voice, she hadn't whined like this since she was a child.

"Because as I said, my entire world in in this room, but I needed to make sure that you still felt the same way, that I was truly your choice before I told you."

"Told me what?" she asked, beyond impatient.

"He's gone, Cissa. The Dark Lord is dead and we are free." He appeared calm but she thought she heard his voice catch in his throat.

She sat straight up and just stared down at him for a moment. "What! How? Are you certain?"

He stood up and perched on the edge of the mattress next to her and reached for her hand.

"I wouldn't have come to you with this if I wasn't certain. I've seen his body. He attacked the Potter family tonight. Lord and Lady Potter are dead but when he went after the child something happened, there was a magical backlash and it killed him. Apparently the house is in shambles."

"And the baby?" The Potter child was about Draco's age.

"He is alive."

Her heart hurt for him, too many children had been orphaned by this war, and too many parents rendered childless. But it could not compete with the unbelievable joy of this moment. Free. She hadn't even realized how trapped she'd felt. She looked at him askance. "And you, are you going to be in trouble?"

"Father and I have already straightened things out with the Ministry, that is where I was all night. It is also where I viewed the Dark Lord's body."

She would ask him for the details later, right now she didn't care.

"Lucius," she breathed, leaning forward and capturing his lips with hers.

"I know, my love, I know," he murmured against her lips, cupping her face in his hands and deepening the kiss.

She gave herself over to it. Merlin how she had missed this! She reached out and began to caress his torso, reveling in the feel of his smooth skin and this mouth moving passionately with hers.

He pulled back slightly and began to pepper her face with small kisses. "Everybody thinks you are my prize, this almost impossibly beautiful thing to hang on my arm and show off. But they have no idea what a treasure you actually are. My sweet Cissa, I adore you."

He deftly popped the top button of her nightgown open and began to nip and suck her neck and shoulders. She moaned and tunneled her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

"No!" Shouted a little voice and then a small hand was inserted between them.

Narcissa startled and wrenched herself away from her husband and looked to her left where her son was sitting, appearing quite disgruntled. She was just happy neither of them had actually begun disrobing.

Draco glared at Lucius and crawled into her lap, burning his head in her chest, "my mama!" he declared, patting her possessively.

She let out a startled laugh and looked at Lucius whose lips were quirked in amusement. When he met her eyes his lips began to twitch and then he threw his head back and laughed uproariously. She just watched him, her heart alight with happiness.

"Don't worry my boy, I wouldn't dream of stealing your mother away from you," he said when he'd gotten control of himself, laying one large hand gently on top of the baby's head, "but perhaps you would be willing to share her?" He turned back to Narcissa, his eyes dark with desire. "I know you don't like leaving him in the care of the elves, but perhaps just for tonight? I need you, Wife. I want to show you how much I have missed you."

His voice was a seductive growl that he knew she couldn't resist and she had to make a concerted effort not to squirm at the sound of it. She just nodded at him. He leaned forward and gave her one last chaste kiss.

"I love you, Narcissa. I promise I will be the husband you deserve from now on."

She blinked back tears, and then became distracted by Draco struggling in her arms.

"Me eat?" he questioned.

Lucius chuckled. "Come, I had the elves prepare a feast for us." He climbed off the bed and then helped her up, but instead of leading them out of the room he bent to press a kiss to the crown of Draco's head. "I promise to be the father you deserve as well," he swore fervently.

She knew that he only really meant for the promise to be between himself and Draco, but she heard him, and she couldn't prevent the tears from falling this time.

It may have been the first day of the darkest season, but morning had indeed broken.


	4. Old Dog, Same Tricks

Old Dog, Same Tricks: December 19-20, 1993

Sirius couldn't remember the last time he'd been so thoroughly content, and so very, very comfortable. To his utter surprise Malfoy Manor was a warm and welcoming home. He had been reticent when Draco had first broached the subject of bringing him home over the holidays. But the more the boy talked, and Hermione added her own arguments, the more he saw the benefits.

He was reluctant to leave his pup behind, but he had to admit that he hadn't made any further progress on locating the rat. And it had become almost impossible to breach the castle since his last- unsuccessful- attempt to break into Gryffindor Tower at Halloween. In the end the promise of a few weeks where he was guaranteed a warm place to stay and regular meals were too much to pass up. Since he'd begun receiving semi-regular meals courtesy of Draco and Hermione he'd realized that being reasonably well fed was important to his mental clarity.

And then, of course, there was the fact that while he got some well deserved R&R, he could also do some recognizance on his cousin's family. He needed to know how to function in this new world. And Draco and Hermione's relationship remained a mystery that he couldn't reconcile with the blood purist he knew Narcissa to be, and much more concerning, the Death Eater he knew her husband to have been.

Draco instructed him to meet him in Hogsmeade the day the Express was to depart for the Christmas holidays, assuring him that he would have transportation arranged for "Shadow" to travel to Malfoy Manor. He had to give the boy credit, he never underestimated his intelligence. It was refreshing. People had just seen through him for so long.

Actually, he had to give the boy credit for a lot more than that. As uncomfortable as Sirius was with his last name, he had to admit that while he could be a sarcastic git, Draco was one of the most thoroughly kind people he'd ever met. And Sirius knew that he was in no position to judge people for their last names.

If Hermione was any indication Draco also attracted other kind people into his sphere. That girl was such a laugh, he'd rarely met somebody so expressive. He was very interested to be able to watch them interact and see if they would balance each other the way he imagined. They were certainly much more mature than he had been at 13/14 and he thought their relationship very well might be the real deal.

When he arrived at Malfoy Manor via house elf apparition he was greeted by a host of other elves and the Lady of the house herself. And for the first time Sirius realized that his cousin was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever laid eyes on. He'd known that she was considered to be so, but he'd never really _seen_ it before, she'd been all hard edges and cool glares. And then there was the fact that she hardly looked like she'd aged a day in the more than twelve years since he'd seen her last.

But she seemed like an entirely different woman. She was certainly gentler with him as a dog than she'd ever been with him as a human. And though she was wary of him, she wasn't frightened by him like so many people were because of his large grim-like form. No, much to Sirius' amusement she was just worried he was going to ruin some of her expensive furnishings or possibly dig up her well manicured gardens. He decided right then and there to prove her wrong.

He tricked the elves into giving him an extra long bath by playing with them. He'd discovered during his years at Hogwarts that elves loved dogs, or maybe just him as a dog. Either way he got to luxuriate in hot water for nearly an hour- a luxury almost beyond his imagination.

He didn't see the Lord of the Manor until Draco arrived home that evening. Sirius was waiting for the family of three in the Entrance Hall when they arrived back from Kings Cross, anxious to observe their dynamic. Like Narcissa, Lucius didn't appear to have aged much since he'd last seen him. And while his demeanor wasn't as soft inside his own home as his wife's, he was still wildly different from the cold, ruthless Death Eater, Sirius had been acquainted with.

The couple's treatment of their son went a long way to explaining why the young wizard was so thoughtful. Draco's relationship with Lucius was particularly surprising. While they behaved as Lord and Scion, there was genuine love and respect on both sides. Over the course of dinner Lucius asked his son's opinion on several House matters and Sirius was shocked to find a long dormant portion of his heart burning with envy.

That night saw him sleeping soundly on the plush rug at the foot of Draco's bed, joined sometime in the middle of the night by Nox who was annoyed at her wizard's attempts to take up all the space in his large bed, leaving her none. Then, the event he had really been awaiting came to pass when the next morning brought Hermione to the Manor. He'd been interested in seeing Hermione and the Malfoys together for months, and their interactions didn't disappoint.

The family didn't wait for her in order to start eating breakfast. A few minutes after they'd all been served she strolled in casually like she lived there. And considering the suite of rooms in the family wing that Draco had pointed out as belonging to her, he got the impression that she actually was as comfortable here as she was in her own home. He nearly choked on his own tongue when she greeted Lucius with a kiss on the cheek.

Sirius was fascinated by Draco and Hermione's easy banter, but when Draco pulled an eerily familiar bit of parchment out of his robes, Sirius went on full alert. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, but then the younger wizard said the password that made the truth undeniable: somehow, unbelievably, Draco had the Marauder's Map. Sirius didn't think, he just lept. He got to enjoy one brief moment of triumph: he finally had a way to prove Peter was alive, and then everything went black.

When he returned to consciousness he was bound to a chair, groggy, and staring at his cousin and her husband who both looked much more as he remembered them: cold, shrewd, and calculating. It took him a minute to recognize the fuzzy feeling in his head. He and his fellow Order members had practiced with the Imperius curse, the idea being that they would be prepared to throw it off if it was used on them by the enemy. And maybe he would have been strong enough to do it twelve years ago, but he knew he had not been today.

He was irate at first. But by the end of the discussion he had to admit that he had been lucky to escape alive and intact. He'd been unbelievably reckless in revealing himself and a little questioning under the Imperius was the least he could have expected.

The snakes seized on the opportunity and he ended up being bound to so many unbreakable vows and loyalty oaths that he wouldn't be able to put one toe out of line without risking his life, or at the very least his magic. But somehow he didn't feel like he'd gotten such a terrible deal. He had powerful allies now, allies who supported his bid for freedom and to get custody of his godson. And while they weren't taking any chances, all they really wanted in return was an in with the Light, use of the Black library, and assurance that he would keep their secrets. He was happy to offer Hermione the protection of House Black, and if his robes hadn't been so filthy, he thought Narcissa might have hugged him when he'd made the suggestion.

When she led him upstairs and showed him the rooms he'd be allowed to occupy until arrangements could be made for him to surrender to the Ministry and then assigned him a house elf, he couldn't help himself, and he did hug her.

 **Author's note: This was originally written to be included in the main story but it just didn't fit. However, I thought you guys might like a little Sirius POV as an extra, so I wrote this to its natural conclusion and I'm putting it here. I hope you enjoy it even of the action itself isn't anything new. Thank you all for reading and thanks to Weestarmeggie for reading it over first!**


	5. Everytime She Fell I Caught Her

Everytime She Fell I Caught Her: March 31, 1994

Lucius was surprised by the quiet knock at the door. It was rare that his family disturbed him when they knew he was working, but that knock didn't belong to Narcissa or Draco, which left Hermione. She and Draco were home for the Easter holidays and Hermione was spending the daylight hours at the Manor for the first week because her parents were only able to take one week off of work. So, in some ways her presence was no surprise, but she had never come to his study without an explicit invitation before. He found himself feeling inordinately pleased that she had sought him out.

"Enter," he called out.

She poked her head into the room first and he resisted the urge to chuckle. Not two years ago he would have found her behavior utterly uncouth. Now he just found her quirks endearing. She would be the perfect Lady Malfoy when the occasion called for it, but she was bright and independent minded and her nature would not be curtailed by societal expectations. She was Draco's Narcissa.

She stopped in front of his desk and twisted her fingers together in an obvious display of uncertainty. "Hi," she whispered breathlessly- a complete contradiction to her usual brass demeanor, "I'm sorry to interrupt, it's just that Draco and I have had a fight. Not like a fight-fight- not like a real fight- a quarrel, really it's just that he can be so infuriating!" she stopped speaking abruptly and went bright red, peeking up at him from between her lashes.

This time he did laugh. "Relax, Mignonette, I'm well aware of how frustrating my son can be."

She continued to squirm on the spot. "Yes, well, I just needed to get away from him before I said something that I would regret and I didn't want to be alone. Narcissa's busy in the gardens, so I was just hoping I could sit in here. I promise I'll be quiet," she finished in a hushed voice.

"I've seen you silently engrossed in a book for hours, you don't have to convince me." He eyed her empty hands. "Do you need a book to amuse yourself?"

"No, I was really just hoping to sit in here," she looked longingly towards his leather sofa.

He scrutinized her but nodded his assent.

She scurried across the room and hastily toed off her shoes and then curled into an uncomfortable looking ball in the corner of the sofa. He watched her for just a moment- the way she squirmed and rolled her shoulders, and then how she wrapped her arms around herself with a grimace on her face- before a few things clicked into place.

"Evie," he called quietly and the elf appeared next to him immediately, "please bring Miss Hermione a pain potion," he requested with a small, commiserating smile. The elf was surely upset by Hermione's emotional state, she already cared for the young witch deeply, which was why he'd chosen to call her. It was important to their bond that he allowed her the opportunity to help.

Hermione's head shot up and peered at him inquisitively, "how did you know?"

"I have been married for twenty years. I am more than capable of recognizing the issue when a woman is in the kind of discomfort you are clearly feeling at the moment."

She colored again and looked away from him.

He frowned. "It is nothing to be ashamed of. I hope that Draco hasn't made you feel that it is."

"Oh! No! I don't think Draco has any idea. I was just feeling irritable and I…" she trailed off. "When I'm- I don't know how to explain it. But when I'm not sure what to do, it makes me feel better to be around my dad, but he's at work and I just thought…" she trailed off again and Lucius felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

"Did the idea of seeking me out comfort you?" he asked very quietly, almost disbelieving of what she was apparently telling him.

She just nodded.

Evie popped back and held out the potion to him. He took it with a quiet thanks and gathered some of his work before making his way over to her. He hesitated before handing her the vial. "You aren't allergic to anything in a standard pain potion laced with a muscle relaxant, are you? I just assumed you'd taken this before, but if you haven't asked for one before now…"

She shook her head vigorously and took it without hesitation. "Oh I have, I just I didn't think," she said.

He chuckled. "Please don't hesitate again when you are in this household. I know it is not a cure-all but I will not have you suffering unduly."

She just nodded, looking a little guilty.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Oh!" she gasped, obviously surprised. "No, I'd like that, but I really didn't mean to interrupt."

"Stop, love," he said quietly, "if you had been I would have told you. But if you need me, I am honored that you feel that you can come to me, as you would Draco or Narcissa."

She nodded and he gestured for her to sit up. She did and he sat down in her place. She looked momentarily shocked and then visibly gathered herself and scooped up a throw pillow and gestured to his thigh.

"Do you mind?"

"Of course not."

She placed the pillow against his leg and then laid her head on it with a relieved sigh. He carefully propped some documents on his lap and stroked her upper arm with his free hand. "Just relax," he cajoled.

"Thank you," she slurred through the effects of the pain potion, and for the first time he truly _felt_ what it would have been like to have been granted more children.

An hour later his son found them. With a sharp rap at the door Lucius bade him enter and Draco came to a startled halt in the doorway as soon as he laid eyes on them.

He hesitated for a moment and then he smirked. "I've been looking for her but I never imagined this. Should I be worried?"

His face was pure mischief and Lucius was, once again, struck by the difference a couple of years could make. Draco never would have joked so freely with him before, and instead of resenting it- or feeling like it was disrespectful- he was actually proud of his son's confidence and amused by his audacity.

"Not unless you're threatened by the idea that I consider your intended to be my daughter," he returned, with equal mischief.

Draco was visibly surprised by this statement and took in a sharp breath. "You do?" he wondered.

"Is that so astonishing?"

Hermione shifted in her sleep, reaching for Draco unconsciously.

Lucius laughed softly, careful to keep from waking her. "She seems to know that you're here. Perhaps you should come all the way in. I had intended for you to look over some of these documents regardless, I think this would be a good opportunity," he prompted his son, separating some of the parchment he'd wanted Draco to look over as part of his education.

Draco flicked his eyes in Hermione's direction but nodded curtly.

And thus Lucius spent an enjoyable afternoon with his son and his sleeping future daughter-in-law

It was only after she awoke that he realized she was capable of absorbing a lot of information while she was unconscious. And when- only a few hours after that- she'd essentially restructured a good portion of his current investment strategy, he realized that she was far smarter than any of them had believed, he had tried not to appear shocked. He wasn't sure that he succeeded.

Draco managed to only look slightly smug.

 **Author's Note: This is yet another one that was written to be included in the main story and just didn't quite fit. But I just loved this little glimpse into the growing Lucius/Hermione bond I had to put it here. Thanks for reading you lovely people!**


	6. La Vie en Rose

La Vie en Rose: July 20, 1994

The first time Draco saw Hermione in a bikini he nearly swallowed his tongue. He'd seen her in swimwear more times than he could count at the Manor. But the suits she donned at home bore only a passing resemblance to the small scraps of fabric that just covered the most private parts of her anatomy which she wore to the beach on the first day of their French holiday.

She just stared at him, almost daringly, as she stripped off her shorts and her top which had already been giving him a lovely view. He could only stare back as she stood up and lifted her chin defiantly. He tried to keep his eyes on her face but it wasn't easy. He glanced at Helen for guidance but she was unpacking her bag, seemingly oblivious. He flicked his eyes nervously in Richard's direction. The man was glaring at him, but it wasn't nearly as harsh as he would have imagined it would be. He looked back at Hermione who was still staring at him. And that's when he understood: she was waiting for some sign of his approval, or _disapproval._

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, a gesture that would surely be misinterpreted. But for her to worry for a moment that he wouldn't like what he saw was just absurd. He looked her up and down, careful not to linger in once place too long, and when he reached her face again he smiled softly at her and touched a finger to the side of his nose which had become their universal sign of acknowledgement for things they couldn't say out loud. She beamed, spread her towel on the sand and lay down on it. He shifted his glance back to Richard, the older man just gave him a sharp nod of approval.

He removed his shirt and settled down on his own towel with a book. In retrospect, Hermione had tried to warn him about what he'd encounter on a muggle beach and how she'd be attired. And he knew from his own observations that the muggle world was much less modest than the magical one. But he'd brushed aside her words and concentrated on his excitement about spending the time with Hermione's family. Joining them for part of their time in France meant that- even though she would be visiting Potter House for a couple of weeks in August- they'd have more time together than they had a previous summer. And he was pleased to have an opportunity to explore the rather fascinating muggle world away from his parents prying questions.

But even if he'd thought on it at length, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his girlfriend with so much skin on display. More skin than he'd been brave enough to try and touch as of yet. She was even more beautiful than he'd imagined. And he'd already thought he'd known her body pretty well, she had no problem snuggling up to him and letting him run his hands along the curves of her waist and hips. But he hadn't realized how beautiful she truly was.

About an hour after they arrived at the beach the elder Grangers got up to go for a walk and once they were gone Draco saw Hermione moving out of the corner of his eye. Out of curiosity he turned to see what she was up to, she had flipped over onto her stomach, reached behind her, and was untying the straps holding up her top. He watched, frozen as she pulled them to the side, completely exposing her back.

"What are you doing?!" He cried in alarm- not certain if he was more concerned about her parents coming back and catching this untoward behavior, or about the rest of the people on the beach seeing something they shouldn't. He rose up onto his knees and was reaching over to do...something when she turned her head and smirked at him. Her expression was so full of mirth and mischief that it stopped him in his tracks.

"Relax, I'm not doing anything improper, I just don't want tan lines. The first time you see my breasts is not going to be on a beach full of people. And while I don't have any problem with topless sunbathing, I'm definitely not ready to try it. I'll tie it back before I turn over again."

Draco's brain tripped over the term 'topless sunbathing' and he scrambled to get back on topic. "Why did you wait for your parents to leave then, if this is okay?"

"Because I know you," she smiled at him warmly, "I figured you would freak out and I didn't think you'd want to have this conversation in front of them."

"Did you say something about being topless?" He managed to squeak and hoped he didn't sound as pathetic to her as he did to his own ears.

"It's very common for women to lay out without a top, you'll see some around."

He couldn't help himself, he looked around frantically. Part reflex, part horror, part teenaged boy curiosity. Her deep chuckle brought his attention back to his girlfriend, the only one he had permission to look at topless, and he didn't even actually have permission for that. But she didn't seem upset.

"It's okay," she assured him, "it's natural." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "As long as you're most interested in mine."

"I am," he said immediately, it was nothing but the truth. He still felt himself flush as soon as he spoke.

She went as red as he was sure he himself looked and averted her eyes, biting her lip. But then she looked determinedly back at him and stretched out her arm, wiggling her fingers. He reached out and clasped it. "Thanks Draco."

"Have you thought anymore about what you're going to name your foal?" He asked her after several minutes of contented silence.

She blinked heavily, her mind had apparently been elsewhere, but then her mouth curved into a lazy smile. "I was thinking 'Selene.'"

"That suits," he answered without needing to really think about it. His parents had apparently been plotting to get an Abraxan for Hermione for a long time. They'd arranged to have one of their mares bred with a foreign stallion to create a foal perfectly suited for Hermione. She was beautiful, a pale grey color that was almost luminescent. Selene was very elegant and apropos. It also seemed rather fitting for him to have a horse named after a demon and her to have one named after the goddess of the moon. He could now admit that he'd been a bit childish naming Azazel, but he still thought it worked for his Abraxan who had become his own sort of strong-minded terror.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Yes, and Mother will approve, which means Father will also approve. Of course, he'd probably allow his Mignonette anything she wanted and never let on that he didn't agree," he said teasingly, sending a wink her way.

"You're just jealous," she responded without any bite.

"Must be nice to be Father's favorite," he singsonged.

She snickered and laid her head back down, closing her eyes. She didn't let go of his hand. He began to softly stroke her palm with his thumb and watched as her eyelids became heavy and her breathing turned deep and regular. He let her sleep but kept an eye on her lest she inadvertently expose herself or get burnt in the sun as she- unlike he- was using muggle lotion. He had applied a potion that would keep him protected completely, but she had wanted to get some color on her skin. They'd both agreed that any attempt on his part to do so would be useless and would only result in painful blistering of his alabaster skin.

Hermione awoke when her parents returned to the little piece of beach they'd staked out at their own for the day and they spent the rest of the morning chatting, reading, and splashing in the waves. Draco still had a hard time keeping his eyes off of Hermione, but at least he'd grown somewhat used to her having so much skin on display.

After lunch Hermione proposed that the two of them take a walk and explore the beach along which they were staying. Draco happily assented until she stood up and he realized that she intended to walk the length of this beach, where anybody could see her, in just her bikini. But he was well acquainted with Hermione's temper by now, so he shut his mouth while he contemplated how to broach the issue. Unfortunately his silence gave him away.

"What's wrong?" She huffed.

"Nothing!" He defended, and after a moment of hesitation: "but are you going to put something else on?"

"What, why?"

"Everybody can see you!"

"So what? Is there something wrong with the way that I look?"

"Of course not!" He roared, his temper topping off. "I just don't know how I feel about anybody and their brother seeing you so exposed!" He shut his mouth with an audible click, certain he was about to be told off and forbidden from touching any of that skin she was apparently so willing to show the world.

But she just tilted her head and regarded him thoughtfully. "That's extremely chauvinistic of you, but also kind of sweet."

"Perhaps a sarong, darling, would make Draco feel better?" Helen suggested, her tone mild but the quirk of her lips was amused. She handed her daughter a long multi-colored swatch of cloth from her bag that Hermione took and quickly tied around her waist- it hung to her ankles, preserving some of her modesty, but not a lot.

She put her hands on her hips. "That's as much as I'm willing to concede Malfoy! I know this isn't what you're used to, but I'm not going to cover myself like I have something to be ashamed of."

"Of course you don't!" He responded automatically, the thought had never crossed his mind.

She seemed visibly taken aback by the vehemence of his tone and her expression softened as she offered him her hand. "Well, let's go then."

He took it gladly and she pulled him away from her parents. "I'm not sure you've ever reminded me so much of your father," she commented.

He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult. "What do you mean?"

"Lucius is so protective of Narcissa. There have been times I wondered if it didn't bother her. If she didn't wonder if he thought she couldn't take care of herself."

Not knowing what to say, and feeling that appeasing his girlfriend in this moment was far more important than defending his father, he made a noncommittal sound.

"But I get it now, that's how he shows that he loves her. It's not that he doesn't think she's capable, he just doesn't think she should have to deal with it."

He made another noncommittal sound.

"And that's nice Draco, but don't ever try to keep me from doing something I think is really important."

Indignation rose up within him and he didn't have to think about his response. "I wouldn't do that."

"Good," she sniffed haughtily, "because I'd make you regret it."

He could only turn and grin at her, thinking that he probably should have been more disturbed by how much he admired that sentiment.

But he wasn't.


	7. Troll in the Dungeons!

"Troll in the Dungeons:" October 31, 1991

Draco was conflicted. On the one hand Weasley had insulted the mudblood and she'd run off crying, which was utterly satisfying given that it was the duty of purebloods to make mudbloods feel inferior, even pathetic purebloods like Weasley. On the other hand, Weasley had insulted the mudblood and the sight of her crumpled features and sound of her muffled sob as she'd exited the corridor had made his stomach hurt. He was getting tired of this.

She was so annoying. How did she not realize that she had no business here? She was so eager. So quick to show off her magic. How dare she? Could she not feel her inferiority? Who was that audacious? She really did need to be taken down a peg.

He was probably just annoyed that it had been Weasley who'd done it.

And maybe this would be the thing that finally drove her back to the muggle world. The problem with that thought is that it actually made him feel worse.

Draco had to begrudgingly admit that the Halloween Feast at Hogwarts was magnificent. The enchanted ceiling, enormous pumpkins, and fae decorations were rather breathtaking. And the obviously specially prepared food was almost good enough to have been cooked by Malfoy elves. He had to remind himself not to look too impressed.

He couldn't understand why the Granger girl was missing it. Not that he cared, but this just proved that she really was daft. And it's not like he'd been looking for her or anything, that insane mop of hair was just impossible to miss. His mother would be appalled- did muggles not know about such simple tools as hairbrushes?

If mudbloods didn't insist on inflicting themselves on his world he might actually feel sorry for them.

He'd almost forgotten about Granger when that stuttering idiot Quirrell came bursting into the Great Hall screaming about a troll and then actually fainted in the doorway. And Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, sent them back to their dorms which were in the dungeons, with the troll.

Draco looked at the older kids to see if any of them had noticed this and were going to do anything about it, but aside from a few grumbles they just assembled under the orders of the prefects. And their head of house, who was the only professor who _might_ be willing to listen to Draco, had disappeared along with the headmaster. So he just situated himself between the much larger targets of Crabbe and Goyle. His father was definitely going to hear about this.

Luckily, the Slytherins made it to their dorm without incident and then a couple of hours later word came that the troll had been captured and the danger passed. It wasn't until the next morning that Draco learned any details. It was all rumor, the professors didn't make any kind of official statement about what had happened, but the rumors were remarkably consistent. Hermione Granger had been cornered by the troll and somehow- surely pure dumb luck- Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had saved her.

Draco's stomach hurt again and all he could manage for breakfast was some toast. He told himself that it was the sight of Granger, Potter, and Weasley huddled together at the Gryffindor table, giving weight to the rumors about what had occurred the previous evening. Which meant that far from driving the mudblood out of Hogwarts, they now appeared to be friends with her. He would have sworn up and down that he was just regretting the missed opportunity.

But deep down he knew better.

0000000000

Hermione thought that maybe she'd hit her head during the incident with the troll and in the chaos of it all that she just hadn't realized it. She even considered going to the infirmary to get checked out, but she didn't want to draw that kind of attention to herself. But if she wasn't seeing things, then Draco Malfoy was watching her, and that made no sense.

It wasn't all that unusual for him to look at her, he seemed to find some kind of malicious glee in making people uncomfortable, especially Gryffindors, and most especially muggleborns. So she was used to him sending sneers her way. But he'd been looking at her all day with something like concern, and maybe even a little fear.

She didn't like it one bit. She'd learned to ignore his derision. But the fact was, that there was something surprisingly magnetic about Malfoy and if he started acting like he didn't hate her, she was afraid she might do something stupid; like try and talk to him.

"Oi, Malfoy, what are you staring at?" Apparently Harry had noticed his odd behavior too.

He appeared momentarily startled but he quickly gathered himself and smirked. "Just daydreaming about what it would have been like if that troll had better aim." He turned to her, features twisted in an expression of cruel derision. "If it had just done us all a favor and cleaned this place up."

There was a pang somewhere in the vicinity of her heart as his meaning sunk in, and she had to remind herself what had happened the last time she'd run off to have a cry in the bathroom.


	8. Ribbons and Bows

Ribbons and Bows: July 20, 1992

Narcissa was despondent to see Hermione return for lunch from her lessons with Lucius along with Draco looking absolutely defeated. Draco seemed confused. Lucius looked disturbed, and perhaps a little bit annoyed.

The girl's hair was sticking out on all sides and she seemed mortified by whatever had happened. Draco kept shooting concerned glances in her direction, but Lucius, despite his initial concern, became largely uninterested in whatever was bothering her over the course of the meal. Until Narcissa kicked him in the shin under the table and his eyes went wide.

"I have some business I need to discuss with you Lucius," she hissed, and rose from her seat.

"Okay," he responded, his face blank and clueless in a manner which was so unlike her husband that she almost laughed.

She stood up and strode out of the room without looking to see if he would follow, because she knew that he would.

When he caught up with her in his study she turned to lean against his desk and smiled at him. "I love you, but you will never understand some of the trials we witches endure."

He reared back in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"I need to teach Hermione how to pull her hair back and keep it resistant to reacting to magic when it's cast against her. The poor girl can barely see."

"Oh thank Merlin," he breathed out, tugging on his own hair, which was neatly tied back. "I thought there was something wrong, she was so flustered today. Draco is usually much more easily frustrated than she is, I couldn't determine what had happened."

"And did you not think to ask?"

He just gave her a hard look, which she understood immediately: that wasn't his parenting style. For the most part, he left the dealing with feelings to her

"You're not used to girls," she responded charitably.

"I'm used to Claire," he countered.

She almost laughed. "Lucius, have you ever thrown an offensive spell at Claire?"

"I-no, of course not!" And that thought obviously gave him pause. "Cissa, are we completely in over our heads with this girl?"

"No, it's just that she didn't have the benefit of an early magical education. I sent her some products to help control her hair, but that's different. Thankfully, Andromeda and Bellatrix both had curly hair, I know how to properly plait it back suitably."

She'd been eager, desperate even, to learn how to do her hair along with her older sisters, and had been somewhat crushed when she realized that what worked on their thick curls wouldn't with her stick straight hair. But she'd still watched, maybe she'd hoped that one day her big sisters would ask her for help. They never had. But Hermione could certainly use it.

"Give us a little while after lunch. But next time you see that she's upset just ask her what's wrong. She'll probably just blurt it out, she needs to give voice to her feelings, she's almost Draco's opposite in that way."

Lucius just sent her a quelling look and strode from the room.

"I feel so stupid!" Hermione wailed a few minutes later once Narcissa had concealed them within her personal sitting room. "It's just my dumb hair getting in the way and I know Mr. Malfoy was getting frustrated with me."

"It's not stupid, this can be a real problem for witches," Narcissa soothed. "As I told you when we first met, our hair is an extension of our magic, yours can't necessarily be expected to behave during a duel. And just for the record, Lucius wasn't ignoring the fact that you were upset, it just never occurred to him to ask what the matter was. He and Draco tend to internalize things, he thought he was doing you a service by not calling attention to it."

"Oh," Hermione gasped. She didn't say anything for a long time but Narcissa could see her biting her lip and eventually she gave into her curiosity. "Is that a boy thing, or a Slytherin thing?"

Narcissa laughed. "Some of each, I think." She tied off Hermione's plait and hugged her from behind; she couldn't express the sentiment to her yet, it would be too much, too soon. The girl had barely gotten used to being at the Manor, and she didn't want to scare her more than she already had been today.

But that didn't make what she was feeling any less true. It was very nice to have a daughter around.

 **Author's note: Thanks to Baileyblueroan on Tumblr for this sweetest of prompts about Narcissa doing Hermione's hair, I hope I did your idea justice! And to Weestarmeggie for looking this over. And, as always, thanks to you all for reading, my dearest hope is to have a chapter of the main story out very soon!**


	9. The Unexpected

June 30, 1995

Harry had raged when he'd found his best friend snogging his greatest enemy in an empty classroom following the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. He was determined to do… something. And even if Malfoy's vow kept him from giving up Hermione's deepest secrets, like the fact that she was snogging a Slytherin, he could make her pay, he could make her a pariah. Easily.

Her popularity was nothing compared to his own. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and perhaps, for once, he could make that work for him.

Except, then, not even halfway back to the common room after catching Hermione and Malfoy in a position he would have thought impossible, something brought him up short.

Shame.

Despite her deception, Hermione had been a true friend to him since he'd met her. He couldn't hurt her. Upon further thought, he probably couldn't ruthlessly target anybody like that, with the goal of ruining their reputation, but he certainly couldn't do it to Hermione. He didn't understand her choices. But he couldn't do that to her.

He wasn't stupid, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't know the full story. If he just abandoned her, well then Malfoy had a point, he'd be as bad as all the rest of the people who had given up on him the moment things got hard with the tournament. He'd be like Ron.

And that was not to mention how much the idea of simply walking away from such a close friend physically pained him.

As such, he'd kept his mouth shut, carefully and deliberately, for almost two whole months. He had lashed out at Sirius the moment he'd gotten him on the mirror the first time after he'd caught Hermione and Malfoy together, but he had been decisively shut down at Sirius' careful reminder of what had happened when he'd lost his own temper.

So he held it in, but he knew that he was still missing a large part of the puzzle. And that only made his resentment simmer.

He would probably have hated being summoned home for Easter Break. Except for the fact that being able to go home for a school break, and to somebody that truly wanted him, remained such a welcome and unexpected treat. So, despite his reservations, he eagerly boarded the Hogwarts Express back to London.

He never would have, never could have, expected what he encountered. He would certainly never forget the looks on Hermione and Sirius' faces in the moments after he awoke from the ritual. The joy they brought him was second only to the sudden freedom he felt, it as if he'd been unknowingly shackled to something his whole life and had suddenly been unchained.

And his mind was suddenly much freer.

He had found Malfoy Manor to be more than a little overwhelming on his first visit. If he'd been asked beforehand, he would probably have said that he expected a dark, cold, creepy place. And it was intimidating, but not because it felt dark.

He'd been astounded from the moment he stepped out of the floo. He had thought Potter House was impressive, but it paled in comparison to the surroundings he had found himself in at the Malfoy estate. It was no wonder Malfoy was such an entitled git. The Manor was massive, beautiful, and with every accommodation anybody could ever want, and many most could never begin to imagine.

The joy Hermione found on these grounds, on top of the ease his irreverent godfather also seemed to feel amongst these otherwise immaculate halls relaxed Harry. He didn't love Malfoy Manor more than he loved Potter House, he would never love anywhere more than he loved his family home, not to mention that Potter House felt much more like 'him,' but he still felt surprisingly welcomed at Malfoy Manor.

He'd never seen such joy on his best friend's face, or such tenderness on Malfoy's formerly sour countenance as when they were together in his house, together in a way they couldn't be at Hogwarts. He had come to Malfoy Manor out of sheer, unadulterated, curiosity. But looking back on it, he had expected to hate it, to find a way to talk his best friend out of this ill-conceived relationship and get them both as far away from this dark family as possible.

He had never considered that Draco would really love Hermione.

He had never considered that Lord and Lady Malfoy would have a true, respectful marriage.

He had never considered that Hermione wasn't being duped, or that Padfoot wasn't playing some sort of elaborate prank on him.

Until he'd watched them all interact.

And he'd felt welcomed, not just tolerated, at least by all of them other than Lord Malfoy. Then again, he got the impression that Lord Malfoy only barely tolerated everybody other than his wife and Hermione, even his own heir. So he couldn't take it personally.

And there was a lake.

And flying horses.

Narcissa was much kinder than he ever would have imagined, given that she looked like such an ice queen. In fact, he was quickly coming to think of her like the aunt his Aunt Petunia _should_ have been, or perhaps the one he'd just longed for her to be.

And the food rivaled that at Potter House.

So it especially hurt to see the way his best friend was dejectedly slumped against her boyfriend (his new friend?) in this place where he'd begun to feel safe; not that he didn't understand her grief over Neville's death, but he'd gotten used to seeing her happy.

Draco kept trying to rearrange her more comfortably, but she wasn't having it. It was like she was determined to pay penance for all the bad things in the world by sitting awkwardly. Finally, Draco leaned down and whispered something into Hermione's ear and, though it was just for a split second, it was like her misery over their friend's death evaporated, her entire face lit up and she craned her neck to give him a brief kiss.

Harry felt a momentary pang of jealousy at the sight. Another thing he was still getting used to. The first time he'd felt such a thing while watching the two of them interact he'd panicked, worried he'd been harboring some sort of secret crush on his best friend. It took him several weeks- interacting with the pair of them regularly while they helped him train for the final task- to realize that his feelings had nothing to do with wanting Hermione.

In fact, he was really happy for her and what he had with Draco. However, it was impossible to witness their relationship, their innate connection and the unselfish love they so obviously felt for each other, without longing for a similar thing for himself. He'd never seen anything like it, and hadn't even known to wish for it. But now that he'd witnessed it- not just between Draco and Hermione but in the elder Malfoys and also the Grangers' relationships- long for it he did.

Sirius appeared in the floo, interrupting Harry's thoughts, requesting Lord and Lady Malfoy's presence at his meeting with Headmaster Dumbledore. As they stepped through Hermione reached out an arm for Harry, inviting him to share both a sofa and his worry with them.

He didn't hesitate to join them. Perhaps it should have been awkward, but he had felt sucker punched when Sirius had told him that Neville was dead. However, Hermione looked absolutely gutted when he arrived at the Manor. She had arguably been closer to Neville than Harry had been, and that, paired with how close she obviously was to the Malfoy patriarch, no matter how little Harry understood their relationship, meant that she must have been in agony.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Her eyes shot to his. "Are you?"

"No," he admitted.

She took a deep breath. "It would be wrong if we were," she whispered.

"I-" he hesitated to voice his thoughts but she continued to reach out to him, squeezing his arm.

"Whatever you're feeling right now, Harry, it isn't wrong."

He wasn't sure he could say it, wasn't sure how utterly fucked up it made him, but he couldn't resist. He was seething, and he had been for years. "I want to make him pay. Voldemort, I mean, he's torn my life apart and I know it's probably wrong but-"

Hermione cut him off, brushing her hand down his arm and taking his hand. She looked at her boyfriend, but it was a fleeting glance, confirmation rather than permission. "We're in. None of us are safe while that bastard lives. None of us can live the life we want. So, we're in," she said immediately, putting her free hand forward, Draco mimicked her without a word, placing his hand on hers.

Harry didn't need to think, this just felt right. He covered their hands with one of his and for the first time in his life he felt what it meant to be truly understood.


End file.
